Hawke
by SuddenSilenceWon
Summary: Title is still pending. Third person and POV telling of Hawke's journey from a farm girl in Lothering to the Champion and beyond. Character focus will shift among Hawke and her companions over the course of the story. New content outside the original story. Rogue!Fem! Hawke. There are going to be romances. However, I'm going to leave all, save one, a surprise: (F!Hawke/Anders)
1. Prologue

**A/N:** Firstly, I want to thank anyone reading this in advance. This is my first attempt at writing a fan fiction. Although there are so many Dragon Age based stories posted (The ones I have read are great! They really inspired me to start writing my own!) I figured what's one more to the pile? Anyway, I decided to start the story off nine years before Ostagar soon after the Hawke's settle in Lothering. Please feel free to comment on my work. Every critique helps me to develop my writing. In the future, some of the dialogue will be straight from DA2. (Only in parts that I feel need to remain that same and parts that I loved just the way there were) I also decided to date the chapters as well as give name days to the characters. Marian's name day is my birthday translate to the month names in Thedas. (Harvestmere is October, essentially). Enjoy! xx

22 Harvestmere 9:22 Dragon

It is a well-known fact that a girl who is skilled in the deadly arts must be in want of proper blades. That was what Malcolm Hawke was thinking when he purchased the daggers currently being unwrapped by his daughter. Marian Hawke was celebrating her sixteenth name day and, to her mother's chagrin, had a thorough dedication to a skill set that was considered by many to be unfit for a lady. The truth was, in fact, that Marian had no desire to be a lady. After years of desperate attempts to form her eldest daughter into the mold she herself had been schooled in when she was a girl, Leandra simply could not get her daughter to fully comply. When Marian had been old enough, Leandra had tried many times to tutor her daughter in the skills that would mark her as accomplished. It was, however, a difficult task due to the family often needing to flee from an area once suspicions arose about Malcolm's true nature.

Four months before, the Hawke family had settled into a homestead on the outskirts of Lothering. It was a small, relatively quiet hamlet in the Arling of South Reach bordering the Kocari Wilds to the south. Although it had both a Chantry and a garrison of Templars, the townsfolk were not predisposed to reporting suspicion of magic use, unless of course the person in question was deemed dangerous. Many had suspicions about the patriarch of the Hawke family, but he was well liked and a hard worker. None would choose to harm a man who did so much to help out the community as Malcolm Hawke had in such a short span of time. Alike, the residents turned away their eyes when it came to the Hawke's younger daughter. She had begun to show signs of magehood, but was such a polite, kind child who showed a discipline and maturity so well beyond her years that the townsfolk had become rather endeared to the young Bethany Hawke.

As Marian revealed her father's gift, Leandra looked on through narrowed eyes at her husband as their daughter leapt out of her chair and into Malcolm's arms. "Love really," Leandra said in exasperation, "what in the Maker's name possessed you to purchase those?" Malcolm stared back at his wife, a gleam in his eye, as he bathed in his daughter's enthusiastic affection. "Father," Marian exclaimed, "Oh father, thank you!" She pulled away from her embrace to look at her new daggers again. They were simply made _"but elegant"_ she thought to herself. She looked over the blade and grip of each with a careful eye. To another other eye the daggers would have looked like nothing more than steel and leather, but Marian could see beyond that. They were crafted with a subtle maker's mark that told her they had been crafted by Owen, the blacksmith in Redcliffe.

Marian beamed as the realization of just how special they were came over her. _These _blades had been crafted_ especially_ for her. "I have to try these out right now!" Marian announced before kissing her father's cheek and bounding for the door. "Wait just a second, young lady," Marian halted at her mother's words, "You still have your other presents to open." She turned, a pout on her face, and looked at her mother. "You can spend the rest of the day _playing_ with those things." "Look darling," Malcolm added, "I know you are excited, but that gives you no excuse to be rude." Shoulders slumped, Marian headed back over to the table, flopping down in a vacant chair. "Open mine next!" Bethany urged. "No! Open the one from me next!" Bethany frowned as she looked at the boy sitting next to her. "I've got an idea, "Marian replied, "How about you each hold the present you got for me and I'll pull the ribbons on each of them? That way, I'll unwrap them both at the same time." The twins smiled widely before doing what their sister had suggested.


	2. Nine Years Later

**A/N: **Again, thank you for reading. A shorter author note this time. I just wanted to point out, at this part in the story, Marian is a practicing Andrastian and will quote the Chant. The excerpts can be found on the Dragon Age wiki. DA belongs to Bioware, but all new additions belong to me. Enjoy! xx

10 Drakonis 9:30 Dragon

"You cannot truly think this is wise!" Marian was tired of this. Leandra had been trying to talk her out of going to Ostagar ever since news had reach Lothering of Cailan's request for more recruits. "Mother honestly! You've been making the same protests for a fortnight now. It has yet to do anything to persuade Carver or myself to abandon our course. Do you truly believe that it will do so now?" Marian turned back to her pack. As she put the last of her clothes in, she could feel her mother staring at her. Sure enough when she turned her head to look, Leandra was standing in the doorway with her hands on her hips and lips pursed in anger. Marian sighed, "Carver means to go. As head of this family, I have a duty to keep my youngest sibling safe. Let's face it," she said, once again facing her mother, "without me to watch over him, his brash and impulsive nature will surely be the death of him."

Part of Leandra agrees with her daughter, however Leandra was too stubborn to admit it. A trait that Carver and Marian both had inherited in spades. "What of your sister and me?" Leandra reminded her, "Who will ensure our safety while you are off playing at being a soldier?" At her mother's words, something in Marian snapped. "I am not playing at anything!" she growled, "Carver and I both obtained commissions in the King's army." She sighed, trying to stay calm as she continued. "Mother, I know that for the entirety of my life thus far you have attempted to bring me up to be a proper lady. Alas, I have no intention of playing the part of a doting wife and wasting my days pretending to enjoy occupations that are deemed proper for a lady. I refuse to be anything other than that which the Maker designed me to be."

Anger over took Leandra. "You are a lady Marian!" Her daughter attempted to walk past Leandra as she swung her pack over her shoulder, but Leandra grabbed her arm. "You are an Amell as much as you are a Hawke. You could have the chance at great connection due to that alone. Why must you throw away such a chance at being secure?" Marian broke free of her mother's grasp and began marching down the hall, banging on Carver's door as she passed. Reaching the small house's common room, she turned to face her mother once more. "What security can there be whilst vermin from the void itself threaten to pollute and ravage the land? How can I, in good conscience, stand idly by as the peace of our home is threatened?" Her voice, which grew louder with each word that passed through her lips, reached the ears of her siblings, both whom then entered the hall. "I cannot…no…I will not turn away when all I hold dear is threatened! King Cailan has requested that all able bodied men _and_ women raise up arms to help end this blight on the land before it can truly take hold." She looked at Leandra, her eyes begging her mother to understand, "I am not doing this just for the sake of Ferelden nor simply to keep that impulsive son of yours from getting himself killed." Carver attempted to protest, but his sister's voice drowned him out. "I do this now to protect our home, to protect you and Bethany. I am doing this because it is right! Andraste did not see the evil of this world only to turn away and neither shall I!"

Marian stared at her mother, preparing herself for another protest. It didn't come. Instead, Leandra suddenly was puffed up with pride. She walked forward and embraced her daughter. Sure, in the years to come, there would be more arguments about settling down and giving up her roguish ways, both women knew that. However, in that moment, Leandra was proud of her strong, brave daughter.

"Maker's ass Marian, you almost done your heroic speech? We have to be at Ostagar in a few days!" Marian squeezed her mother one last time before letting go and grabbing her pack. "Bossy little shit." She mumbled, heading for the door. 'Wait!" cried Bethany, running toward her sister. "Marian, please promise me you'll come back." Marian kissed her little sister's forehead. "I'll tell you what, "she said, reaching down to her hips, "You hold on to these for me." Bethany looked at her sister in shock as she took the daggers her sister held out to her. "But Marian! These…these are the daggers father gave you! I can't…" Marian tried to keep a serious face but couldn't help the smile that crept up. "When I come back those had better in good shape. I'll get another pair at Ostagar."

She looked at her mother and sister, the smile quickly fading. "If you hear any bad news, I want both of you to flee. Go to Redcliffe or Denerim, just leave a sign of which way you decide to go and we will find you. Pack anything you may need after we leave. Don't try to take anything with you that may slow you down." Nodding to Carver, Marian opened the door and headed out into the cool, early spring air. Carver followed close behind as they reached the gate. "Come on Carver, let's get going."

13 Drakonis 9:30 Dragon

It had taken three days for Marian and Carver to reach Ostagar and the pair were exhausted. As they passed through the eastern gate and into the fortress, they both felt the urge to look up toward the imposing structure that was the Tower of Ishal. As they stared up the length of the tower, which seemed as if it were a spear cutting into the sky, neither sibling could shake the feeling of dread that washed over them. It felt as if the tortured souls of slaves, brutalized by powerful magisters in the aeons long since passed, were still crying out. Shuddering and forcing herself to look away, Marian grabbed her brother's attention and they finally moved on.

Before them, an ancient bridge stretched out high above the valley below. As they travelled across the King's Highway, they looked on as soldiers darted back and forth with open crates of ammunition, _No doubt for the ballistae_, Marian thought. Curiosity overtook her and she moved toward the edge of the bridge. Looking out, she could see the entire battlefield below. Men, nearly the size of ants at this height, scurried about on the muddy field readying the barricades and battlements. Turning back toward the other side of the bridge, the siblings continued on their way, dodging the soldiers as they ran past.

"Hail," said a soldier standing on the steps as they reached the end of the bridge. Marian looked up at the man. "You two. New recruits I take it?" Marian nodded, "My brother and me travelled from Lothering to join the King's army. We already have our commissions." "Good. Good," the soldier replied, "We need some more South Reach blood 'round here. The name's Conley, by the way." Marian smiled, "I'm Marian Hawke and this," she said, gesturing to her brother, "is Carver." Conley returned the smile, "Well Marian Hawke, you and you brother want to be heading to the recruiter's tent." he said as he pointed behind himself, "Just go straight up the ramp next to the quartermaster and through the infirmary. You'll see another ramp at the far side of the ruins, that'll take you straight into the army camp. Look for the first large tent on your right and you'll find the recruiter inside. He'll be able to handle your commissions." "Thanks Conley," Marian replied, "See you around." "Aye you will," he smiled before adding, "Marian, if you're interested later…sector five, row three. Third tent on the left." He winked at her as she turned away. "Maker's breath!" she muttered as her brother let out a laugh.

Passing beyond Conley's station, a strong blend of odors assaulted the sibling's noses. Burning wood and ancient stone. Blood, sweat and death. The mix threatened to turn Marian's stomach. The sensorial assault didn't end there, however. The sound of the Chant coming from a cleric, perch on a makeshift pulpit nearby mingled with the baying of the mabari war-hounds in the kennel, the clang of hammer and the hiss of cool water on hot steel, and the heart-wrenching groans of the wounded to create a cacophony underscoring the battles to come. Carver passed his sister, seemingly trying to outrun everything around him. Maker be damned if he was going to let his discomfort get the better of him. _This is my chance to prove myself_, he thought as he pressed on past the dead and dying and into the army camp.

Situated on a plateau, just outside the western wall of the fortress, the camp had none of the granite floor like in the ruins. Instead, the Hawkes found themselves trudging through ankle deep mud. The only redeeming factor, Marian noted, was that the camp was upwind from the rotten odors and the cries of the wounded were drowned out. Cooking meats and the earthy smell of the Wilds beyond were carried on the breeze. The sounds of combat practice, laughing and talking welcomed them. They stopped as they reached the recruitment tent. The siblings looked at one another, each letting out a large sigh, before entering the tent.

The tent Marian was assigned to was not much to speak of. A row of cots lined either side, each with its own foot locker. The thin layer of straw lining the ground did nothing to combat the mud below, instead adding new element to the muck covering her boots. Marian shivered as she settled herself on a vacant cot. _Drafty and not very well lit_, she complained inwardly. Realizing that the draft was doing nothing to remove the stench of stale urine and petrichor, Marian stashed her belongings in her footlocker and set off to find Carver.


	3. The Battle of Ostagar

2 Cloudreach 9:30 Dragon

The rain was pouring down as Marian and Carver took their places, side by side, in the ranks. The smell of incense wafted through the air as clerics made their way between the rows of soldiers, offering each a silent blessing. Murmurs of individual prayers, usually calming to Marian, filled her with ill-ease. She looked over at her brother.

Carver saw his sister from the corner of his eye, her face bore a look she had never allowed him to see on her face before. Fear. Carver shook off his own nervousness long enough to give his sister a reassuring smile. When he saw Marian smile back, relief washed over him. That feeling, however, was to be short lived as he heard his sister begin to pray. It was something she did only when she needed comfort.

"_Maker, my enemies are abundant._

_Many are those that rise against me._

_But my faith sustains me_

_I shall not fear the legion_

_Should they set themselves against me."_

Carver then joined her.

"_Maker, though the darkness comes upon me,_

_I shall embrace the light._

_I shall weather the storm._

_I shall endure._

_What you have created, no one can tear asunder."_

As they completed the second stanza, a sense of foreboding washed over the army. The unnatural mists of the Wilds crept out onto the battlefield carrying with it a whisper that sounded like the cries of souls long since dead. From the mist suddenly rose another sound. That of an innumerable amount of marching feet. The winds cleared the mounting fog, revealing the enemy at last. Swarming from beyond the tree line, like a plague of locusts, came the tainted, nightmarish creatures. "Maker preserve us!" breathed the soldier in front of Marian as he backed into her. Raising her arm, Marian put her hand on the man's shoulder. The soldier looked back at her and she responded with a reassuring look, nodding her head forward. The strain on the scared man's face soften and he faced forward again, returning to his position.

With the command of what seemed to be a general, the horde suddenly began sprinting across the field. Screeches and sinister laughter travelled in the now howling wind as the King issued his first command. Marian looked on as the sky was blanketed in arrows that rained down throughout the enemy ranks. The sound of wailing beasts filled the air, contending with the pounding of Marian's heart for supremacy in her ears. The second of the King's commands cut through the air.

"Hounds!"

The pounding of paws and vicious growls echoed through the valley as the mabari charged into the enemy lines. As the shrill whines of the dying symbols of Ferelden travelled to Marian's ears, she reached for her daggers in preparation of the King's next command.

Marian focused on the beating of her heart:

_"One…two…three…"_

"FOR FERELDEN!"

One by one, each line rushed forward. Individual battle cries mounted into a mighty roar that brought forth every ounce of Marian's bravery to the surface as she added her own cry, rushing into the fray. Steel crashed upon steel and the screams of the injured became ever louder as she and Carver began to cut a path through the enemy ranks. The siblings worked in unison like one death dealing entity. Their death toll climbed as, one enemy at a time, the Hawkes hunted their prey. Sweat stung Marian's eyes as she tumbled gracefully, flanking a Hurlock as her brother's great-sword relieved its neck of a head.

The fighting seemed as though it had gone on forever before Marian heard soldiers crying out "The tower of Ishal! The beacon is lit!" Catching Carver's eye, she motioned for them to follow through with the orders they had been given before the battle.

"_When the beacon is lit, fall back to the fortress. Fall in with Logain's men and charge the enemy's flank."_

And so they turned, fighting their way back to the walls of Ostagar, but the legion was not there. "Where is Logain?" she heard a man cry. "Marian!" she turned to face her brother, "Where is Logain?" "I don't-"She was cut off by a warning cry. "OGRE!" The siblings spun around to see the terrifying behemoth that was charging toward them. Marian rolled out of the creature's path. Steadying herself, she looked toward where her brother had been standing. It was then that she saw a horrible sight. The ogre had King Cailan in its grasp. It let out a roar, spewing its noxious saliva all over the King. A blood-curdling scream left the King's lips as the creature crushed his stout frame as if it were a mere twig.

That's when Marian realized the battle was lost. Logain had abandoned them. _"Traitorous coward!" _The King was dead. She swallowed back her fear and, letting out the mightiest roar she could muster, charged once more into the fray.

3 Cloudreach 9:30 Dragon

Dawn was fast approaching as Marian regained consciousness. Crushing pain shot through her chest as she struggled to take a deep breath. Trying to get an idea of her current situation, Marian tried to calm herself. Her stomach wretched as her senses began to focus. Permeating the air around her was the rancid stench of blood and bile, coming mostly from the gunlock she was pinned under. Grabbing at the ground in front of her, Marian struggled to free herself from under the rotting corpse. The soil was drenched in the blood and ichor of fallen allies and enemies alike, making her struggle more and more difficult as every movement seemed to make her lower body sink further into the ground.

Trying to get the creature off of her back, Marian attempted to position herself onto her hands and knees, but the muck and gore made any attempt at finding purchase of the ground around her a nearly impossible task. Losing what little balance she had, her hands slipped, causing her to fall face down in the sodden earth. The gunlock shifted when she fell, freeing most of her body but pinning one of her arms beneath it. Marian lifter her head and gasped for air. Groaning and reaching out, blindly, she managed to grab onto something just within arm's reach. She gripped onto the sturdy surface she had discovered, unpinning her arm. As she did, Marian heard a soul-crushing bellow. With both arms free, Marian shifter her weight on to her side and wiped her eyes. Her vision unimpeded, she saw the thing that had aided her freedom: A leg, barley held on to its owner by a sinew. The owner was still alive, muttering for help in a voice so low Marian was practically merely reading their lips. A scream left her throat as she scrambled backward, attempting to put as much distance between them as she could manage.

Now on her knees, Marian tried to stand. Once again, she found herself on the ground. She rolled off of her back and began crawling across the decimated battlefield. "Carver!" she sputtered, "Carver!" The sick feeling of worry and dread began to take over her battered, gore coated body. With each foot she crawled, the feeling grew.

"Though all before me is shadow…"

She saw drier ground ahead.

"Yet shall the Maker be my guide…"

_"Only a few more feet to go."_

"I shall not be left to…"

_"Finally!"_

"Wander the drifting…roads of…the…FADE!"

She struggled to her feet.

"For there is no darkness in the Maker's light…"

_"Maker please let him be okay!"_

"And nothing that he has wrought will be lost"

Suddenly, Marian heard approaching footsteps. "Carver?" Before her, only a few yards away, two darkspawn appeared. Noticing the lone rogue, they descended on her. Marian reached for her daggers. Nothing. Frantically, she scanned the corpses around her. _"A sword! Thank you Maker!"_ She made a run for it, snatching up the sword as she prepared to stand her ground. "Bloody creatures!" she yelled, blocking the blade being lunged toward her. Marian knew her skills of evasion were useless on the slick field but her quick thinking was not. Jumping onto the back of a corpse, she swung her blade at the closer of the two demons. With the jolt of its block, Marian was knocked off her perch. She slipped, stumbling backward. The creature advanced. Unable to right herself, Marian tried to make peace. _"Maker please!" _She closed her eyes.

"Get away from my sister, you soulless bastards!"

Marian's eyes shot open just in time to see the first creature fall. She got back to her feet. "Carver!" she exclaimed. "Good to see you too! Come on!" Nodding, she grabbed her found long sword and charged across the soggy field, her excitement keeping her from noticing the strain it took to stay upright.

With the second foe vanquished, Marian rushed toward her brother, arms stretched wide. Carver held out his arms, trying to stop her. "Oh no you don't!" he protested, "Not until you get that shit off of you!" Marian ignored him, leaping forward. "Carver! You saved my skin!" He pushed her off. "Andraste's a-""Where were you? What happened to you?" Carver frowned as he tried futilely to get the muck off his tunic. "An ogre charge and a hurlock alpha is what happened to me," he grumbled, "What about you? Andraste's flaming ass, sister! You look like the sodding void itself!" Marian chuckled, "Sister, the horde is marching north. We need to beat them to Lothering."

Marian nodded before bolting back toward where she awoke. "Marian!" Carver yelled after her, "That's…you're going the wrong way!" Marian crouched down, flipping over the genlock. "Found one!" Carver gave her a strange look as he reached her side. "Let's go Marian!" She looked around, "But my other dagger!" she protested. Carver grabbed her arm roughly. "There's no bloody time! Move!"


End file.
